


Your Greatest Fear

by eosrealis (Aurorealis)



Series: Gravity Falls: "A grunkle in every bite, or your money back!!" mini-prompts and one-shots. [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Fear, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6186934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurorealis/pseuds/eosrealis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your greatest fear is rarely ever some static thing. As you grow and experience life, so do your fears and insecurities.</p><p>Stanford was no exception to this fact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Greatest Fear

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: http://eosrealis.tumblr.com/post/137450723159/h-and-stanford-please-d

(child)

 

“Aagh!” Ford’s shout was loud and high pitched, the note of panic clear to anyone. It was probably a good thing that the only one who could hear it was the one it was intended for.

 

Stan was there in what had to be seconds, despite the fact that he’d been almost on the other side of the beach gathering shells in the opposite direction as Ford. “Ford, what’s wrong?! You okay?”

 

Ford gulped, ice was still in his veins and his heart pounded from the sudden adrenaline. “I- I’m fine. I didn’t mean to, um, scream.” He clutched the front of his shirt with one hand, trying to calm down.

 

Stan was far wiser than that though, and swiftly, instinctively, grabbed a hold of that same hand. “It’s okay Ford, I’m here. What happened?”

 

Ford’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment even as recalling the event sent a shiver down his spine. “uh, fine. It’s just- a snake came at me out of nowhere. It went over my foot.” Stan frowned at that. He had never understood Ford’s fear of snakes. But Stan didn’t have to understand to feel compassion. As easily as he’d taken Ford’s hand for comfort, he pulled Ford into a quick sibling hug.

 

“It’s alright, Ford. The snake’s gone now, right?” Ford shivered again at the idea of it still being nearby, but nodded. “Would it make you feel better if I went and hunted it for you?”

 

Ford shook his head instinctively. And then couldn’t help a sudden laugh from bubbling from his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, Stan! How would that help?”

 

“Revenge, obviously. And then you wouldn’t feel scared of it anymore, right?”

 

Ford giggled again, fear forgotten. “That’s not how it works, stupid! It didn’t mean to scare me!”

 

Stan joined in the giggling. “You’re stupid.”

 

“Your mom’s stupid.” They both burst into loud, belly laughs, caught in the moment of silliness.

 

It was much easier to go back to shell collecting after that.

 

0o0o0o0

 

(young adult)

 

Stanford Pines hated getting phone calls. Fiddleford never understood it. It wasn’t just a natural dislike, either. When the dorm’s phone rang for him, his lip would thin and pinch, his eyes would narrow and his hand would clench.

 

Fiddleford just did not get it, did Stanford just hate his family? They called often sure, but not excessively so. When they did call, it was only to generally ask into Stanford’s well being and express their support. The only reason Fiddleford even knew that much was due to overstepping his boundaries as a room mate by listening in a few times. He was certain Stanford had never noticed, but all the same Fiddleford felt guilty. To pry any further would be entirely inappropriate.

 

But regardless, it was a true dilemma. Ma and Pa had always equally both applauded and cursed his relentless curiosity. All in good fun, of course, but Fiddleford had definitely gotten into questionable mischief many times due to that particular trait.

 

Fiddleford supposed this time was more likely to go up in flames than it was to be helpful, but that had never been able to stop him before. The only option now, was to pry, as gently as possible. In this, just as in everything else, a carefully implemented experiment was in order.

 

First, narrow down precisely what Stanford was reacting to. The phone, for sure, but what part? It was only the two of them in this dorm room, and Fiddleford never got calls because he himself kept up with his parents every weekend, and none of the siblings were allowed to call on their own because if they were given that, they’d be calling every minute. It was the trade off of being both the oldest child of many, and being the first in the family to go to college.

 

So Fiddleford’s first experiment was to start rigging the phone to ring. It was a simple manner to make some alterations to the land line while Stanford was out at the library. He gave the phone a temporary number and signed it up for as many telemarketing shortlists as he could find. It had already rung three times before Stanford was gone, so Fiddleford knew it would work as planned.

 

The first few calls, Stanford froze rigid straight as he always did. But as he started realizing the call wasn’t truly for him, Stanford began to calm down. First it turned to irritation, but then later to confusion. “Fiddleford, did something happen recently…?”

 

Fiddleford took a moment to wonder if that was Stanford catching on. But no, it was just natural confusion at a new, persistent problem. “You mean with the phone?” Fiddleford had years of experience tricking relatives behind him, so it was all too easy to pull off innocence.

 

“Yes, it seems to be going off far more often than usual. I have no idea why…”

 

“Ah, well, that might have been my fault.” Fiddleford let out an embarrassed chuckle. The best bluff was one with a hint of truth, after all. “You see, I saw this ad in the paper that looked real neat. Didn’t end up buying it, but..”

 

“But they still have the number.” Stanford was understanding, even sympathetic. It was enough to inflate a ball of guilt in Fiddleford’s chest. Still, Fiddleford nodded along, passing the guilt as simple sheepishness. “Well, it should just be a matter of waiting it out, I suppose.”

 

“Yes, I suppose so.” Fiddleford nodded. The phone rang several more times that night, but it didn’t matter- Fiddleford had his experimental results. Stanford was certainly not afraid of the phone ring itself, only of the contents. That would certainly be more complicated to figure out.

 

The next experiment was a little riskier. Fiddleford knew he couldn’t approach Stanford directly, he was always surprisingly and exceedingly defensive when it came to personal details. Thankfully, Fiddleford was good at prying. He already knew from their initial introduction the town Stanford was from, as well as the fact that he just graduated from high school the year before attending.

 

It was easy to look up all the highschools in the area. Slightly more difficult to find out which one Stanford was from and retrieve his parent’s contact information, but in the end Fiddleford sounded pretty disarming from the phone, and the story about helping his roommate was actually true.

 

This time, Fiddleford waited several days until Stanford left for a class he had separate from Fiddleford- usually they had the same ones, that was why they roomed together in the first place. And with a class, there was no chance of Stanford coming back suddenly- he would never miss a class.

 

The phone rang almost deafeningly in the silence of the cramped dorm room. Finally, it was picked up by a woman’s voice. “Pines Psychic, how can I-”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m not here for that!” Fiddleford interrupted, embarrassed at having forgotten that. Hadn’t Stanford told him his mother worked as a phone psychic? “I’m Stanford’s room mate, I wanted to ask somethi-”

 

This time he was interrupted by Mrs. Pines’ gasp of surprise. “Oh, Ford’s told me about you! McGucket, right? Is there something wrong with Ford? You been taking care of him?”

 

“Well, yes, that’s me. And that’s just the thing, I’ve been trying to help Stanford out with something that’s been bothering him, but he just clams up if I try.” A bit of a fib, Fiddleford hadn’t actually tried the direct route. But he was working with a great wealth of evidence that said Stanford would do exactly that.

 

“Something that’s been bothering him…?” She had started the sentence confused, but trailed off as if she’d realized exactly what the cause was.

 

Fiddleford decided to press. “Yes, whenever a phone rings for him, he freezes right up. I’ve discovered that Stanford isn’t afraid of the phone itself, but there must be something about getting calls..”

 

“…Ohh.” Mrs. Pines let out a long, sad sigh. “That’s my boy, always blaming himself.”

 

“Blaming himself for what?”

 

There was a pause on the phone. “ You know, Ford is hard enough to keep contact with as it is, he’d probably ignore my calls entirely if he knew I was talking to you. But you seem to have his best interests at heart, so I’m going to tell you something.”

 

“Of course, I wouldn’t tell a soul about this.”

 

“Alright. I’m gonna guess not, but has he ever told you about his twin brother Stanley?” Mrs. Pine’s voice was so small, so pained as she said that second name. Immediately, the worst possibilities flew through Fiddleford’s mind even as the surprise of the statement rattled through him.

 

“No, I had no idea… what happened to Stanley?” Because it was very, very, clear that something had happened.

 

Mrs. Pines was silent for another long time. And then finally, she sighed again. “You seem like a good boy, but it still wouldn’t be right sharing too many details. My twin boys had a horrible falling out, and at the same time my husband kicked poor Stanley out of the house. If I could knock sense into all the boys in the house, I would. Of course, Stanford holds the worst grudges of anyone I’ve known, and they used to be so close…”

 

Fiddleford was silent this time. That explained a lot, and a lot more than Fiddleford could ever have expected to get. But, “That’s horrible but it doesn’t explain why Stanford’s afraid of getting phone calls.”

 

“Sorry hun, that’s all I can say. If any of that can help you help my Stanford out, that’s all I can ask.” The phone suddenly hung up with a click. Fiddleford didn’t try the phone again.

 

Some time passed, and Fiddleford considered his problem. Something about the mysterious Stanley Pines. But what did that have to do with phone calls? Fiddleford was certain they didn’t call each other, surely he’d have realized.

 

In the end, the answer came much sooner than Fiddleford could have guessed.

 

The phone rang, and Ford only twitched lightly, still somewhat expecting telemarketers. Then, when it was his parents, there came the usual tension. It was only because Fiddleford was watching carefully that he noticed how Stanford immediately froze up, his free hand clenched tightly against the edge of the phone desk. “He’s what?” Stanford almost whispered, sweat gathering on his forehead.

 

Fiddleford froze at the sight, stunned into inaction. Then, quickly, he sneaked over to his bed, where the second phone he had gotten on the sly was hidden. It was attached to the same landline, making an extremely rudimentary phone tap.

 

“-doesn’t look good.”

 

Stanford ducked down, obscuring his voice to a whisper. With the second phone in hand, it did nothing to stop Fiddleford’s eavesdropping. “Is he alrigh- er, has he asked for bail money?”

 

“What!? No, if he used his phone call it wasn’t for us. I got this from the police. He had a fake ID even, but a bad one.” Fiddleford recognized the second voice as Mrs. Pines. “You’re allowed to be worried about him, you know.”

 

“What?! No, I’m not! That trouble maker d-deserves anything he gets.” Fiddleford could practically feel Stanford’s panic, as badly hidden as it was. Against his own mother, Stanford stood no chance.

 

“Will you stop trying to sound like your father!?” She hissed. “My free spirit was just beaten bloody by a mob and arrested, and you’re more concerned with holding your grudge!”

 

“I, I..” Stanford swallowed. “It was because of me he got kicked out in the first place. I don’t- I can’t– he ruined my life first!”

 

There was a long silence. And then finally, Mrs. Pines hung up. Stanford let out a heaving breath through the receiver. After a few more seconds, he hung up as well, immediately striding out of the room as if nothing had happened. Fiddleford buried his phone back under his bed. He didn’t try to pry any further.

 

0o0o0o0

 

(adult)

 

“Why don’t you need help?” Stan leaned against the front door’s frame with a challenge in his eyes. “Sure, you may be Mr. Competent adventurer, but wasn’t it you who made the ‘no one deals with the supernatural alone’ rule?”

 

Stanford let out a long suffering sigh. “Because, Stanley, this is different. The creature I’m checking in on is a shape shifter, but its individual fight capabilities are limited. Taking anyone else down only gives the shapeshifter an advantage. The moment we’re separated, it has the upper hand.”

 

“Yeah? And what if it takes you by surprise and returns to the shack looking like you?”

 

“That is precisely why I am telling this to you. I’ll give you a password. How about ‘rift’?”

 

Stanley shook his head. “No no no, you’re not going by yourself. You said yourself-”

 

“I know what I said!” Stanford cut his twin off. “I’m being perfectly honest here when I say that the shapeshifter is not a great threat- provided it is taken down alone.”

 

Stanley stared into Stanford’s eyes for a long, uninterrupted moment. It was long enough to nearly make Stanford fidget. He didn’t like feeling nervous at something as simple as eye contact, but Stanley seemed to be an expert at causing just that.

 

“…Fine. But if you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming in. And I get to make the password.”

 

Stanford opened his mouth to protest, but Stanley was having none of it. He stood his ground, squaring his shoulders as if expecting Stanford to try barreling through. “Very well, but you have to promise to use the password immediately if I am gone long, or I’ll shoot. Also, if you encounter me, and I don’t immediately give the password, you promise to shoot as well. The shapeshifter is no threat at all from a distance.”

 

Finally, Stanley nodded. He whispered the password, and then Stanford was off.

 

The bunker was easy to find, even after all those years. Slightly more difficult was triggering the door. It was excellent for secrecy to have the switch so high up, but dreadfully inconvenient. The initial bunker seemed just as he’d left it, except of course with 30 years worth of dust and bugs. There was some disturbance with the surrounding dust that suggested relatively recent use, but Stanford had heard that Fiddleford used this section to hide from the Wierdmaggeddon initially. He didn’t spare any more thought to it, quickly crossing the room to the secret bolt hole.

 

It was a harder squish to get into, and the next room was even more age worn than before. If Stanford was lucky, he wouldn’t even need to do anything, and the shapeshifter would still be in its capsule. More than likely, the recent damage to the town had released it, but he could be positive. Stanford strode over to the console and double-checked that he remembered the configuration before flipping between camera channels.

 

And then Stanford saw it. Dipper, frozen in a stasis tube, where the shapeshifter should have been. Ice colder than any cryostasis pod flooded his veins.

 

“No..”

 

He couldn’t believe it. When had Dipper made it down here? And past the trap door? Only to be trapped by the shapeshifter and replaced- left frozen to death. Stanford’s fingers twitched to the stasis controls. But it would be no use, they weren’t designed to keep humans alive. The water in Dipper’s blood would have formed ice crystals, bursting through his veins, shattering that promising young brain.

 

“Oh god..” Stanford collapsed, his heart racing a million miles, his lungs gasping for air. Distantly, he knew he was having a panic attack. All this time- for Stanford would have noticed if it happened while he was here- Dipper had no reason to go exploring when the bunker’s owner was right with him- all this time, it had been the shapeshifter?

 

All those admiring looks, the high pitched notes of excitement at a new design or experiment. Just the other day, Dipper had been happily explaining his advanced mathematics course. Stanford choked on air- the shapeshifter was a state away, Mabel didn’t know, she’d be betrayed by her own flesh and blood.

 

Stanford had been betrayed. Dipper’s love for DD&D, his enthusiasm in the exact same topics as Stanford, it was all too obvious. The shapeshifter knew his preferences, knew exactly what Stanford loved.

 

He was such an idiot! And all he could do here was curl up and try not to pass out. He almost felt like he was dying. Stupid, so stupid. Tricked again, betrayed by his friend.

 

From now till the end of time…

 

“No!” Stanford forced the refusal from his own lips. He could do this! He was having an attack. Kicking his brain into familiar activity, Stanford started with forcing deep, slow breaths. He pulled himself into a sitting position, his knees folded up, so he could rest his head against it. Closed in like this, he felt safer.

 

For a few minutes, Stanford didn’t think, he just took breaths, even counting their length, and felt his pulse. Like clockwork, he slowly but surely settled down.

 

Now. To deal with the situation. Stanford would need a plan of action. He wouldn’t think about Dipper- it would only cause him another panic attack. He needed to think instead about how to extract the shapeshifter from its identity- one that it has been assuming for months. It would not be a simple matter. If it managed to keep its identity over Weirdmaggeddon, it would be hard to-

 

“Wait!” A surge of hope split through the dread and panic and sheer fear. “Weirdmaggeddon, that’s it!”

 

Stanford was an idiot. It would have been patently impossible for the shapeshifter to keep it up for Weirdmaggeddon. Not only would the pain have far outweighed the gain, it was not just difficult, it was literally impossible. Bill Cipher could see through dimensions. He would not have appreciated the shapeshifter taking the identity of his toy, and he certainly wouldn’t have entertained the facade. Even without that, his weirdness waves cancelled out the weird powers of all other beings. It was why the supernatural creatures of Gravity Falls had been just as afraid of Cipher.

 

All at once, a flood of memories assaulted Stanford. Moments where the shapeshifter would have attacked, moments it could never have reproduced. It could never recreate emotional responses very well, Stanford knew that better than anybody.

 

No, he could see it now. Dipper, and probably his sister (who would most certainly have realized it, had Dipper been an imposter) came down here at some point. There, they encountered and beat back the shapeshifter, who took Dipper’s form upon being trapped as a last defiance.

 

There was only one way to test it out. A human couldn’t possibly survive the tube. The shapeshifter however, had natural cryopreservation properties in its blood, and would wake up groggy only minutes after being thawed. Decisively, Stanford punched the stasis control. The device activated with a loud whooshing noise, drawing in chemicals to jump start the thawing process quicker than any amount of warm air.

 

Stanford could feel tension in the air. For several minutes, he didn’t move, and neither did the frozen Dipper. But then, a shift of an eyelid. Stanford leaned closer to the display. A finger twitch. Finally, an arm shifted upwards- a clear movement that couldn’t be caused by a dead body pulled down by gravity-. Frozen Dipper’s- the shapeshifter’s- eyes fluttered.

 

Well. That was a waste of adrenaline. Stanford felt a little silly. He tapped a password sequence into the console, initiating the termination protocol. A swift acting poison flooded the tube, and the shapeshifter was gone before it was even awake. Regrettable, definitely, but Stanford couldn’t let it go, and was only prolonging its suffering here. He should have done it 30 years ago, but he hadn’t been in his right mind then.

 

As if to punctuate Stanford’s sudden sheepishness, the body lost its alternate shape, slipping into its natural pale flesh and bug like form. Still despite the fervent relief at being wrong, residual fear forced his stomach to roil and turn uncomfortably.

 

It was all fine though, Stanford wasn’t betrayed. This just proved that he couldn’t handle it happening again. It was a good thing then, that Stanford was surrounded only by family and friends that truly loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> In order:
> 
> Childhood: Snakes  
> College years: Stanley dying in a ditch somewhere, because he was homeless and alone, and Stanford only gets to hear this from a phonecall  
> Older adult years: Being betrayed by friends/loved ones
> 
> save this poor sci fi owl ;-;


End file.
